Count Me In
by PotterIsMyPatronus
Summary: "Oliver was being the show, but he needed a narrator. I'm the pen." Entry to All Time Low Competition, by TrueBeliever831.


**My entry to the All Time Low Competition, by TrueBeliever831.**

**Pairing: Percy/Oliver**

**Song: Dear Maria, Count Me In**

**Enjoy, review and favourite.**

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Percy nudged his glasses up his nose, settled his clipboard onto his lap and looked for once at the Quidditch game rushing around him in a blur of honey yellow and cobalt blue colour.

He didn't want to be here, but the Minister told him to monitor them game, and so, here he was.

It really wasn't his scene, and he didn't want to admit why.

Yet, against his will, his eyes zeroed in on the familiar Keeper.

Laughing, Oliver Wood flicked some of his light brown hair out of his eyes and muttered something to a passing Chaser. His long cape twined around the tail of his broom. His long frame shook gently as he chuckled. Looking at him, his eyes darting around, locked on the Quaffle, Percy couldn't deny that he was beautiful. Unconventionally beautiful.

As soon as the game stopped - "Victory for Puddlemere United, with help from the talented Keeper Oliver Wood!" - Percy leapt to his feet and hurried off, abandoning his clipboard on his seat. People slammed into his sides and he shimmied between them. Several times, he stumbled as he raced through the seats; he suddenly remembered about the lost clipboard, but he had better things to focus on.

He caught up with Oliver just outside the changing rooms for the Quidditch team. Against his will, his eyes feasted on the look of shock on Oliver's face. He had memorised that face from the pictures he kept, cut from magazines, yet seeing it in the flesh was like a jolt of lightning up his spine.

"Percy!" Oliver exclaimed. Percy was suddenly enveloped in a warm hug; he noted that Oliver was about an inch taller than him. "I haven't seen you in ages! How's the job going?"

Hiding his blush and regaining composure, Percy said, "Fine, fine… And I don't need to ask about yours. Seeing from how well you played just then, I expect it's flourishing."

Oliver smiled. "Still as pompous as ever!"

Percy flushed.

"Nah, I'm only the reserve Keeper. Maria Jugsworth is sick today, poor girl. Still, this probably earned me enough to have a night out."

"Only that much?" asked Percy, eyebrows raised.

"Not everyone earns enough to buy out Madame Malkin's, you know!" His comment was harsh enough for Percy to internally flinch, but he softened it with a smirk.

"Well, um…" Percy cleared his throat. "…where are you living now?"

"Just in a little flat a few streets away. It isn't much, but it's great in terms of location. I can walk to work - well, when I'm needed, that is - and it's a bus ride from the pub, the bank and the supermarket. It's certainly not a palace of any sort, but it's alright."

Twiddling his fingers, Percy nodded.

"This is awkward," muttered Oliver.

"I don't know what to say," Percy laughed nervously.

With a snort, Oliver said, "That makes a change."

Before Percy could retort, another member of Oliver's team swaggered up behind Oliver, whacked him on the back and said, "So, are we going to the pub or not, mate?"

Oliver shoved him back. "Yeah, be patient." He turned to Percy. "You coming?"

"Dear Oliver, count me in," joked Percy in a moment of confidence.

But that confidence was soon flattened, as Oliver had already turned away without so much as a chuckle. As his self-doubt crept up and from its lair once again, Percy followed him and his teammates out of the Quidditch pitch.

* * *

**.oOo.**

* * *

Empty glasses covered the entire counter, wiped completely clean of the alcohol once in them. Wild animals rampaged around Percy. Slowly, gently, he lost himself and his worries into his glass of Firewhiskey.

Again, he thought of Fred. How could he forget? Nothing could wipe his brain clean of that particular memory. The very second he found his faults, and his brother died.

_Stop it_.

Percy gazed at the Quidditch team and quickly found Oliver in its masses. In one hand Oliver had a glass of Firewhiskey, and with the other he was wrapping his infatuated friends around his finger. Leading them on through their drunken oblivion, playing the leader like he always did. Acting the joker of the team, flaunting your memories for anyone to see - if only Percy had the confidence or courage to do such a thing - and milking the laughs they created.

Percy wanted to call out, but what would that do? Crying out didn't bring Fred back. What good does it do?

His eyes were locked onto his glass, and the fiery liquid within it, but in the corner of Percy's eye he saw Oliver glancing over at Percy every now and then. Ah. Oliver was being the show, but he needed a narrator.

_I'm the pen._

So, when Oliver leaned over Percy and offered his hand, Percy took it, followed him up to the bedroom and was quickly wrapped, just like everyone else. Oliver was good at it.

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**Cliffhangers, I hate you. So much. Why do you never work? What did I ever do to you?**

_**Cliffhangers: You just told us you hated us.**_

**Well, you started it!**

**Review and favourite, tell me what you think, please please please please. Because I may or may not have written this when I should be doing my maths homework. **

**LOL IDEC**

**Thank you for reading.**


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